


Noticing

by Madame_Klancealot



Series: Morning Rush Hour [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Japan, M/M, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Klancealot/pseuds/Madame_Klancealot
Summary: Keith takes the same train every morning to work, nothing new until he notices someone who starts taking the same train as him every morning.





	Noticing

**Author's Note:**

> Super random story that popped in my head. There will be short ficlets of these two and how they develop something on the train ride to work every morning.

Every morning Keith took the Yamanote line from Shin-Okubo, his home district, to Ueno for work. Crowds were bustling up, lining up to their designated train, waiting for it to arrive on time as it did every morning. One wouldn’t find anything more punctual than a Japanese train, and Keith was always the one to be first to stand in line to get in. 

 

During the last week he had noticed a figure in the train car he always chose to take. He was a person of habits. Always buying the same headphones when they broke, always wearing the same brand of shampoo when he showered, always trying to be the first person in line when waiting for the train. This also went for train cars. He always chose car number 7. He didn't know why, it was just the number he picked the first day he started his new job at the Tokyo National Museum, situated in Ueno Park. Car number 7 was furthest back, and it had the fewest people cramped into the car every morning. Car number 7 chose to be the best one, and it got even better after he started noticing a new figure taking the same car as him, every morning. 

 

Every time the music blared on the speakers for the incoming train, Keith would feel his insides jump with anticipation if he would be in car number 7 this morning too. For the past week, it had been proven positive. He took the same car as Keith. Not knowing why exactly, and he never knew which station he went off since Keith was the first of the two to go off. He would always crane his neck to get a glimpse of the figure holding on to a handle from the trains ceiling reading the morning paper on his way out, and every morning he would never catch his stare. 

 

Keith took a deep breath when he heard the familiar music sounding from the speakers in the station, indicating the train closing in. He hoped, he wished, he smacked his lips a couple times and told himself internally that today he was going to make contact. Today was going to be the day that he was going to catch the figure’s stare. He had either been cowering out of making contact when the trains weren’t cramped with business workers, or he would finally man up but the train would be filled to brim with people ready to go to work. 

 

A woman sounded from the speakers, talking in Japanese to inform the people who were bustling out and in the trains to be careful, then to tell them which stop they were going to next. The doors dinged open and people flooded out of car number 7. Keith stood at the edge of the door trying to quickly peer into the car to see ifthe figure was at their designated spot. Keith, as said, was a creature of habit, always finding a handle to hold on to by the doors on the other side when he steps into the car. 

 

He darted into the car, eyes catching a handle dangling with no hand grasped onto it by the window. His hand grabs it forgetting what his initial task was when pouring into his train. Businessmen and women spilled in along with Keith, pushing him further and further into the window until he felt his body trapped between a window and a warm body. His face tipped upwards to apologize for any inconvenient shoving, but was met with a blue gaze. 

 

The figure he noticed every morning in his car was pushed up against him, blue eyes catching his dark grey ones. Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth, but they weren’t needed either. Keith didn’t know this person, only of him. Besides it was considered rude to talk on the trains in Japan so he remained silent and tried to calm down, but his shock was still on his face when the blue gaze’s thin brown eyebrows started to shoot up taking in his shocked stare.

 

Keith was half-Japanese, always feeling camouflaged in the crowd. But the man he always looked at every morning had a tan complexion, with short brown hair, curling at the nape of his neck. His eyes were bluer than any ocean he could think of, always glittering in the light of the train whenever he tried to steal glances at him every morning. He had a tall, lanky body. Legs long, torso wide in his black suit, looking like he worked with numbers. Keith had to swallow to gather his scattered thoughts. 

 

The blue gaze left in an instant as soon as they hit Keith’s. The train dinged, doors opening, businessmen and women spilling out, giving room to breathe again. Keith’s figure found the other handle, opposite him. He stood holding the morning paper he always read, holding it with one hand. The locals might find him to be just another foreigner visiting their country, but when you payed closer attention to the paper he read every morning, it was clear he was a part of their community, reading in Japanese, wearing a suit like every one else, ready to go to his daily job. 

 

Keith stood nonchalantly, gaze directed to the tan figure who had his hip pointed up to the side, his paper folded so that he could keep on reading it with one hand. He tried not to be too obvious, but he couldn’t stop staring, he knew his stop was closing in, being forced to get off, but not before he made any form of contact with the familiar figure. 

 

His free gloved hand rose from his side, not knowing exactly what to do with it until he found his finger nearing the figure’s shoulder. Breath growing heavier the closer his finger came to the figure’s shoulder, he felt jumping off a cliff at the moment but he persisted on doing it. His finger came as close as possible, hovering above the figure’s shoulder, the man’s blue gaze still focusing on what he was reading. 

 

The train stopped, Keith’s whole hand dropping on the figure’s shoulder on accident, his blue gaze moving from his paper to him. He did it, he made contact, but what does he do now? 

**Author's Note:**

> I keep doing this..a new story forms in my head and it needs to be written, but I have a bunch of other stories to finish...if you read my fics regularly and are waiting for a new part of something, then I'm sorry..more will come soon. I hope. 
> 
> But yeah, I'm obsessed with Japan so pretty much all of my fics have some sort of mention or setting in Japan.


End file.
